Jigsaw Falling Into Place
by Lucky Dice Kirby
Summary: In 1940, Rory made a friend. In 2032, the Doctor wished he were somewhere else. ‹eleven, jack, amy•rory›‹title stolen from Radiohead›


"Right," said the Doctor. "This is just going to be a quick visit, alright? No dawdling. Dawdling is completely out of the picture here." He made a vague hand motion to further illustrate his point.

"Aw, you're no fun," Amy said, pouting. She'd learned, over her time in the TARDIS, that pouting could get her pretty far with the Doctor.

"Really now," Rory said. "It's 2032! You can't actually expect us to be twenty years in the future and not want to have a look around."

"You've been thousands of years in the future!" the Doctor said, throwing his hands up in the air. "What makes twenty years any more exciting than that?"

"When we're thousands of years in the future, everything is completely new," said Rory. "Here, we actually get to see what's changed and what hasn't."

"Exactly!" Amy said. "See the course of history in action, all that. It could be a learning opportunity! And we don't have to go through all that boring living to get there. Come on, I know how much you hate time passing normally."

The Doctor looked like he was about to argue, before realizing that he actually agreed with her about that last bit. Rory looked like he wanted to argue, before realizing that a) he did want to look around, he just didn't think that 'living is boring', and b) arguing with Amy was useless.

And so they landed in Cardiff, Wales, year 2032, refueling stop and, according the Doctor, best year to get fish sticks on the entire planet. Amy and Rory were both skeptical.

xxx

"Firstly!" The Doctor declared, after they had stepped out onto the Plass. Good refueling spot, the Plass.

"Well?" Rory prompted.

"I'm not actually sure how I was going to finish that sentence," he murmured, looking a bit perplexed. He was saved from Amy's relentless teasing by a man walking in front of him, glaring at him, and crossing his arms rather pointedly.

The man was handsome, and blue-eyed, and if his accent was anything to go by after he opened his mouth, American. Amy grinned, and Rory stopped dead in his tracks and stared. "Just a hunch, but I'm guessing you didn't stop so you could pop in and say hello?" he said.

The Doctor looked a bit sheepish. "Not exactly," he hedged.

"That's what I thought." This bit of business cleared up, the man looked past the Doctor, at Amy and Rory. Amy was still grinning, and Rory was still staring. "Well hello to you two," he said, with a wide smile.

"Jack, don't you start," said the Doctor, scrunching up his face in preparation for a proper admonishment.

"Jack Harkness!" Rory cried, finally, two thousand years of memories finally shifting enough to place him. He pointed a finger at him accusingly. "You're Jack Harkness!"

"That's me," Jack said. He shot the Doctor a questioning glance. "Have we met?"

"But, but this is 2032! It was 1940 when I met you. You don't, you haven't- you're the same," Rory said.

Amy raised her eyebrows. "Rory, we've never been to 1940."

"When you were in the Pandorica," Rory said, turning to look at her. "When I was guarding it, he came by to talk to me. Er, warn me. Something like that."

xxx

The story goes like this:

The year was 1940, August was just about to turn into September, and Rory was dead sick of this whole warehouse-on-the-edge-of-London thing. Not to mention the Roman dress. He'd been dead sick of it all for at least a few centuries now, though, so he was used to it.

Occasionally people would come down to visit him, ask him deep philosophical questions or try to open the box. They were usually discouraged from doing either by Rory waving his sword around a bit. Sometimes he let the philosophers stay, if they had something new to say. They rarely did. Two thousand years used up most of the philosophy in the world.

Rory had long ago stopped being surprised by people coming to see him, so the newest inquirer was met with nothing more that dull acceptance. Military greatcoat, winning smile, American accent. Not the usual sort who came to visit him. Most of the people who came to visit Rory were at least partially on their way to being insane.

"So," the man said, "Anything I could say to convince you to move that box? I've got plenty of lines I've been waiting to try out. How do you feel about psychics? I keep meaning to use that one, but I never have the opportunity."

Rory drew his sword. A sword was much more threatening than a gun built into his hand, he had found. The man held his hands up, took a step back, still smiling all the while. "Hey there, let's not be too hasty about this," he said.

"You should probably leave," Rory said. His voice came out hoarse. It'd been years since he'd talked. Apparently even plastic could get hoarse.

"Now, usually I could never refuse a man dressed like a Roman centurion. Boy, were they ever wild, the Romans. Remind me to tell you a story about them sometime. But I'm afraid I have some business to take care of here," said the man. Then he took a careful step forward, offering his hand. "Captain Jack Harkness," he said. "Torchwood."

Rory shook with his free hand, eying the man-Jack-warily. He decided to ignore the comment about the Romans. It sounded like something Amy might say, and he'd rather not think about that, at the moment. "Torchwood?" he asked.

"It's an organization. Top secret. We collect alien technology, keep it from harming the public." He pointed at the Pandorica. "That," he said, "is definitely alien technology."

"You're not moving it," Rory said. "I won't let you." Back in Leadworth, he would never have been able to say something like that without sounding overdramatic. Now, he just sounded honest.

"So I gathered," said Jack.

"How do you know about aliens, anyway? I mean, it's only- What year is it?"

"1940," Jack said. "Actually, that's what I came to talk to you about. You may not have noticed, but there's a war on. Lots of men in uniform, which is good. Also lots of bombs, which is not so good."

He hadn't, actually, but only because he didn't know what year it was. It didn't escape Rory that Jack hadn't answered his question, but it wasn't really important.

"World War II," Rory said.

"Right you are," said Jack. "And, see, this warehouse might not be the safest place for something that you obviously care about. A lot." And there was that winning smile again.

Rory didn't trust this man as far as he could throw him (back when he was human, at least), and he had the air of a con artist about him. "You're not moving it," he repeated.

Jack sighed. "I figured," he said. "But I had to try. Professional conduct, and all." Then he clapped his hands together. "Now," he said. "I'm going to need to lay low for a while. Need to avoid crossing my own timeline for a bit, so- how would you feel about having some company?"

Rory blinked, and then opened his mouth to answer. Jack help up a hand before he could. "No, I'm not going to try to steal your box. Promise. Scout's honour. I just really need a place to stay."

"The Boy Scouts don't exist yet," Rory pointed out.

"Actually, they do. Established in 1911."

"Oh," Rory said, and realized he didn't really have a response to that. Well. A bit of company couldn't hurt, could it? "Alright. You can stay. Try anything funny and-"

"Yeah, yeah, you'll dispose of me in an unpleasant way, I get it. So, did I impress you with my vast knowledge of history yet?"

"About the history of Boy Scouts? Not really."

"You're no fun."

He probably would have gotten annoying after awhile, but he had a deck of playing cards with him. Rory didn't even think of kicking him out after he saw that.

"So," Jack said, after a game one day, "What's your story?"

"What do you mean?" Rory asked. "C'mon, you know it. Lone Centurion."

"But how did you get that way? Lone Centurions don't just pop up out of nowhere."

Rory sighed. "There's this man, called the Doctor-"

"Aha!" cried Jack. "I knew it! It's always him, every time."

"You know him?"

"Do I ever. It's his fault I'm stuck here. Here, let me guess- did he abandon you here?"

That was when Rory really, actually looked at Jack for the first time. More than anything, his face looked- hurt. Like someone had done something completely awful to him. And apparently that someone was the Doctor. Rory put it out of his mind, for the time being. He had his own problems to worry about. "No," Rory said, with a glance at the Pandorica. "I chose to stay here."

Jack turned away for a moment, gazing at the Pandorica. Rory wasn't sure what kind of expression he was trying to hide. "Must be really important," he said mildly, once he looked back. "Whatever's in that box."

Rory thought of Amy, and smiled to himself. "Yeah," he said. "It really is."

xxx

When the warehouse was bombed, Jack helped him haul the Pandorica out before it could get hurt. Rory was absolutely frantic. Later, he remembered a falling beam and Jack shoving him out of the way, and then everything went dark for a bit. Less like passing out and more like rebooting. His wiring or whatever it was he had must have gotten a bit of a jolt. So much for being conscious for two thousand years. When he came back to himself, he could see the Pandorica in the distance, out of harm's way. Jack himself was nowhere to be found.

Rory sighed, and decided to look into getting himself some decent clothes. He was over the whole Roman thing.

xxx

"So, uh, yeah," Rory finished, rubbing the back of his neck. "What happened to you, after that?"

"That never happened," Jack said. "I remember where I was then. I was hiding, but not with you. I guess it could be retcon, but I doubt I'd have such a clear memory of what I was doing if it was that." Rory tried to parse what he had just said, and failed rather miserably.

"Rory, all those two thousand years you lived through never actually existed," the Doctor cut in. "You've just got all those memories jumbled up in your head, but for everyone else they're not real."

"I guess that makes sense. I mean, definitely not plastic anymore. I checked."

"Nestene Duplicate, right?" Jack asked. Rory nodded. "Too bad, those can be a lot of fun. Say, Doctor, I thought the Pandorica was just a myth."

"So did I! Myths never seem to have the decency to stay fictional, it's really quite annoying."

"Doctor," Amy said, "Why don't you have your friend show us around? You two can catch up, me and Rory can explore. Fun for the whole family."

"No, no, I really don't think that'll be necessary," the Doctor said, turning on his heel and heading back to the TARDIS. "Actually, I think we'd really better be going now, you know, places to be, people to save, all that."

Jack grabbed the back of his collar before he could get very far. "Not so fast there. We have some things to discuss."

The Doctor adjusted his bow tie, giving it all his attention. "I thought you left earth," he said, eyes fixed on his tie.

"I came back. I have some things back at the base you need to take a look at. A lot of our archives got destroyed about twenty years ago, and I need some help updating them."

The Doctor blinked. "You archives- I didn't hear about that," he said.

"And I didn't hear about whatever the reason for the new face is. See, Red's right," he said, giving Amy a nod. "Lots of catching up to do."

"Er, but Amy and Rory, I really can't just leave them here-"

"I think they'll be pretty okay on their own. Right?"

Amy nodded enthusiastically. "Go on, Doctor, me and Rory will be fine," she said.

The Doctor looked resigned, but he followed Jack. "And stay out of trouble!" he said as an afterthought, pointing at both Amy and Rory accusingly.

Amy watched them go, giggling to herself. Rory smacked himself on the head. "Oi," Amy said, "What's that for?"

"I just- I've got all these memories that never even happened. It's useless. What am I supposed to do with all of them?"

Jack turned back to them, keeping one eye on the Doctor to make sure he didn't run off. "Hey, I've got some experience in the area of having two thousand years of memories in my head and nothing to do with them. Let's have a drink sometime! I can even show you some other areas I have experience in." With a wink and smile, he started walking off again. The Doctor gave him an exasperated look, and took a deep breath to start in on a lecture.

Rory spluttered, and Amy laughed at the expression on his face. "Oh, shut up," she said, "Just look at him! You're lucky."

"Amy!" Rory said, indignant.

Amy waved a hand at him. "You're the one he was flirting with," she pointed out.

"Exactly! You're not supposed to find people who are _flirting with your husband_ attractive, Amy."

She pouted at him. "You're no fun," she said.

"The both of you are incorrigible and way, way too alike," Rory muttered under his breath.

Amy raised her eyebrows. "Ooh, you think we're alike, do you? Hey, don't you even think about taking him up on that offer without me."

Rory buried his face in his hands and did his best to ignore his wife. "You know, he never did say how he was in London in 1940 and here in 2032 and doesn't look a minute older."

"Probably a time traveler. Huh, maybe he knows River," Amy said. With a sly grin, she added, "Anyway, you can just ask him when you have that drink, right?"

She gave him a minute to stammer before grabbing his hand and walking off in the direction of a door labeled 'Tourist Center'. "C'mon, let's go see if we can find some of those fish sticks," she said. "The Doctor will be so jealous that we got to try them first." With a put-upon sigh, Rory agreed.


End file.
